


Soaked

by candycolamorgan



Category: Harry Potter RPF
Genre: F/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candycolamorgan/pseuds/candycolamorgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter London premieres are always a big deal, but for Emma and Rupert- sixth's the charm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Premiere

Rupert knew he was in trouble when every second he spent away from her felt like hours.

He knew it when the itch to be near her became unbearable to resist, and started towards her hotel suite with no other goal than to just see her.

He'd known that-- and if he was being honest, probably had for some time-- but he didn't realize the true extent of just how deep in it he was until he saw her sitting there, dressed in nothing but one of the hotel's bathrobes. Her eyes were shut, head tilted back, giving him a perfect view of the long line of her throat all the way down to the vee of her loosely tied robe. He swallowed hard, attempting to tamp down his body's visceral reaction to the tempting sight.

Her makeup artist and close friend, Charlotte, looked up at his entrance.

"Hey you!" she called out with a friendly wave, pausing in her ministrations. "Come to let me give you the works?"

"Maybe next time," he answered with a grin and she scowled at him playfully.

“That’s what you _always_ say.”

Emma turned in her seat at the sound of the familiar voice. She tried to swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat at seeing Rupert standing there, leaning casually against the column in the entryway.

Sensing as if she was fast becoming an intruding presence, Charlotte started to gather up her things and make her way out the door.

“Well, I’ll leave you both to it, shall I?” Emma shot her a startled look.

“No, you don’t have to—” She waved off her protests and moved past Rupert, grinning.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you downstairs, darling.” With one last cheery wave, she walked out, the sound of the door closing ringing unnaturally loud in the room.

Suddenly overcome with an unfamiliar sense of shyness, Emma was unable to think of anything to say, in the end resorting to inconsequential small talk.

“I wasn’t expecting you so early.” He smiled ruefully as he moved farther into the room.

“I was bored,” he admitted sheepishly. “Thought I might as well be doing nothing with you.” She nodded numbly, annoyed that it suddenly felt like her tongue was too thick for her mouth.

Rupert straightened as if suddenly remembering something.

“Oh, I ran into David on the way up. He told me to give one of these to you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin, white ribbon. Moving forward until he was only an arm’s length away from her, he explained that everyone was going to wear one for the premiere, in memory of Rob Knox. She took it from him and felt a sudden spark of awareness when their fingers brushed against each other. The shock of it made her fumble clumsily in her attempt to tie it around her wrist.   

"Here, let me," he offered quietly.

Emma tried to stand still despite the pounding of her heart as he gently took her left hand and slowly tied the ribbon around her wrist. She was too busy staring at his long fingers to notice that they were probably lingering a bit longer than necessary and was jerked out of her daze when a shock of awareness ripped through her. He had suddenly brushed his thumb across the sensitive pulse point, increasing her already erratic heartbeat tenfold. Her gaze hesitantly lifted to meet his as he continued the gentle stroking movement, and she wondered if he could feel the relentless pounding of her pulse that echoed loudly in her ears.

Emma felt that she finally understood what it meant to have one's heart lodged in their throat. This inability to breathe properly past some strong emotion felt so foreign and terrifying... and achingly bittersweet. She found that she couldn't manage to get any words past her lips, which was probably for the best since she wasn't sure what she'd have said in that moment anyways.

In stark contrast to her deeply flustered state, Rupert appeared to be completely at ease-- a sort of quiet and steady confidence evident in his gaze and posture. He began to say something, but she interrupted him before his low voice undid any remote sense of control she'd managed to retain up until that point.

"Have you seen my clutch?" she blurted out suddenly in a high-pitched voice she was convinced only dogs could have heard. He blinked in confusion as she broke away from his hold to flit around the room in a flurry of nervous energy. Unable to look at him for fear that he'd see everything she was trying so hard to keep hidden displayed all over her face, she spoke to him over her shoulder, trying her best to sound as normal as possible. "It's kind of an oval shape, with gold rhine--"

She broke off with a startled intake of breath when she felt him grip her shoulders firmly from behind and slowly turn her to face him. The look he leveled at her wasn't frustrated or demanding, but devastated her all the same with its gentle, unspoken question disarming her completely. Some unnamed emotion surged upwards within her, eager to answer him despite the nagging voice in the corner of her mind that cautioned her.

His hands dropped from her shoulders, but before she could feel relief at regaining some much needed distance, he took a step closer to her. She moved back instinctively, but when he came closer even still, she felt the bump of the table at her lower back, effectively trapping her against the hard edge and the quickly diminishing space between them.

Whereas she couldn't bring herself to look at him just a moment before, she now couldn't take her eyes off his face, completely absorbed with his curiously intense demeanor. Every single warning bell in her head started to shriek in alarm as he started to lean in, her mind becoming a chaotic jumble of warring desires.

When his lips were only a hairsbreadth away from her own, everything suddenly quieted, leaving only one blazing thought ringing in her mind.

_Kiss me._

She felt his hot breath against her cheek and her eyelids lowered in anticipation. The moment hung between them heavily, and she gripped the edge of the table needing all the support she could find. Just as she thought he was finally going to close the gap between them and kiss her, she heard a rustling sound behind her on the table. When she turned slightly to see what it was, she realized he was reaching for something. Finally grabbing whatever it was, he then leaned away, leaving her feeling unaccountably bereft.

He looked amused at her confused expression and she felt her entire face redden. _If this was some kind of joke..._ Oh, she was going to absolutely _murder_ him. She was about to tell him so, when he pushed something into her hand.

Her clutch.

"Maybe if you had just slowed down," he began with a smile on his face, "you would have seen it was there the whole time." Her anger slowly deflated at his words, and she couldn't help but feel that he wasn't talking about her clutch. Or, not _only_ at least. She saw his smile fade, replaced with a thoughtful frown. "Listen, Em. We need to talk--"

He was interrupted by the loud slam of the door, and they both jerked away from each other just in time before Dan walked through the entryway to where they were in the sitting room. For not the first time that afternoon she wondered why she thought it had been a good idea to give either of them her room key. Honestly, boys had the most amazing sense of bad timing.

"Hey guys! Did you get a look at the carpet yet? It looks absolutely brilliant!" He came to a stop as his gaze took in the scene before him; Rupert leaning against the fireplace mantle with forced nonchalance, and Emma looking flushed and touching her hair nervously. A wicked smile broke out across his face and Emma mentally groaned. She would never understand why, but he had always taken such a perverse pleasure in any kind of innuendo between her and Rupert, and after years and years of practice, was highly attuned to recognizing any and all signs of tension between them.    

"Oh," he said in a poor imitation of an apologetic tone, "Am I interrupting something?"

Rupert cleared his throat and answered him quickly. Perhaps even a bit _too_ quickly.

"No, of course not. We've just been waiting for you." Dan raised a skeptical brow, not easily put off.

"Really? Because it certainly _looks_ like--" He broke off suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he looked back and forth between them as if he'd just noticed something. "Hang on, I thought we all agreed to wear pink?" Thanking god for his distraction, Emma latched onto the change of subject like a lifeline.

"Mine is!" she protested, pointing towards the detailing on her dress. Dan eyed the slight lines in the floral pattern of her dress and scoffed.

"Barely! And what about you, Rupes? What's your excuse?" Rupert just grinned and moved his jacket aside, gesturing towards the bright pink waistband of his exposed boxers. Dan let out a comically exaggerated groan as he looked down at his own excessively rose-colored dress shirt.    

"I really hate you both right now," he declared loudly over their combined outbursts of laughter.

After they managed to settle down enough for Dan to describe the setup at the theatre, things fell into the comfortable, familiar routine like it always did before they set out for the madness that was a Harry Potter premiere. Well, as familiar as it could have been with the occasional heated look Rupert would shoot her every once in a while over Dan's excited chattering.

She knew that he hadn't quite finished what he'd been meaning to say, and with the way his eyes darkened with promise whenever he glanced over at her, she couldn't tell if the low clenching in her stomach was out of dread...

Or excitement.

***

Emma let out an exhausted sigh as she finally stepped off the red carpet and past the glass doors into the lobby of the theatre. The loud clicking of hundreds of cameras and the enthusiastic yells of the crowd faded into a dull roar as she was guided further indoors. She was stopped by a few reporters, the select few that had been allowed access inside for a quieter atmosphere for more in-depth interviews, and was relieved that the focus of their questions seemed to actually be about the film and not _"The Kiss."_

She'd been operating on autopilot every time the inevitable questions of how she felt about the upcoming reckoning between Ron and Hermione came up, and her answers had always been some variation of the same thing. _It'll be awkward, I guess. We've known each other since we were children..._

Although not a lie, her answers hadn't exactly come close to touching upon how she really felt about the whole thing. However, she was hardly eager to see everyone's reaction and the ensuing frenzy if she actually answered honestly. It's not as if she could just say, _I'm greatly looking forward to it!_ Or, _Well, I've always wondered if he would taste like the hot chocolate he's always drinking on set…_

As if.

She finished the interviews with a few waves goodbye and let herself be led towards the back where she was told a room had been prepared for her to freshen up after braving the downpour outside for hours. The prospect of finally getting dry imbued her with a much needed burst of energy, and she practically ran towards the designated room. In her rush, she spotted Rupert out of the corner of her eye with a cluster of reporters standing off to the side of the stage. She skidded to a halt and moved to stand back behind the heavy red curtain to observe him, unseen.

There was a big grin on his face as he answered their questions, and Emma's heart clenched in pleasure at the sight. She knew how shy and reserved he could be when they had to deal with the press aspect of their job, that seeing him look so relaxed and carefree made her smile.

She stood there watching him, and with every passing second a strange warmth seemed to creep throughout her entire body until she felt full to bursting with some kind of giddy happiness. Images of times he had made her laugh flitted through her mind; the smiles he'd flashed her that she now realized had always been just for her, the feel of his hand on her lower back when they were in front of the cameras...

A deep sense of letting go and giving in washed over her as something clicked in her mind. The realization that she was tired of fighting her feelings for whatever it was between them made her feel as if she had just cast off a weighty burden that had been plaguing her for the longest time. The resulting lightness made her want to run to him that very second and tell him everything. As she watched him finish up with the group of reporters, she stepped out from behind her spot and started walking towards him, intent on grabbing and dragging him away to some dark secluded spot to… _talk_.

She was about to call out to him when a figure from somewhere in her periphery beat her to it.

“Rupert! Rupert!”

Emma came to a sudden halt, feeling as if she’d just run right smack into a brick wall. She watched as none other than _Jessie_ _Cave_ ran up to Rupert and gave him a tight hug, brandishing a towel with the offer to help dry him off. He accepted the offering with a grateful smile and Emma felt a dark, startlingly possessive streak rage within her chest when she saw them begin to talk and laugh about something. _Of all the people…_

In any other situation the irony would have made her laugh, but the force of jealously that coursed through her left little room for any other thoughts than catty insults and visions of less than civilized confrontations; Hair-pulling coming to the forefront of her mind. The intensity of it shocked her and when Rupert happened to finally catch her eye she quickly turned on her heel, feeling mortified as she hurried in the opposite direction to lock herself away and try to rid herself of the overwhelming desire to hurl something.

She quickly bypassed a concerned looking Louise and waved off her questions if everything was alright as she stormed into the dressing room. She just needed to take a breath, calm down for a minute… Easier said than done when she suddenly felt chilled to the bone, now fully aware of how her soaked dress clung uncomfortably to her clammy skin. Collapsing into the nearest chair, she let her head fall back and shut her eyes tightly as she tried to relax.

The sound of the door opening made her groan.

“Louise, I’m fine. _Really_. I just need a few minutes.”

There was no answer except for the unmistakable _click_ of a lock falling into place.

Alarmed, Emma jerked upright in her seat. Only to see Rupert leaning casually against the closed door. She let out a relieved sigh, placing a palm over her chest in an attempt to decelerate her rapidly increased heart rate. When she caught her breath, she scowled at him in annoyance.

“You scared me!” He grinned unrepentantly and shrugged carelessly. She crossed her arms and eyed him cautiously. “What do you want?”

“I told you we needed to talk.” She raised a skeptical brow.

“With the door locked?”

“Yes.”

The single word, said with such finality, reverberated throughout the entire room and made her swallow nervously. She couldn’t deny that she fully understood the implications of what he was saying, but she _could_ at least pretend as if she didn’t.

“Okay, fine. What do you want to talk about?” she asked, mustering all the indifference she could. He smiled curiously at her and pushed off his position against the door to step closer to her.

“What’s wrong? Why are you upset?” She looked away from him, a frown creasing her brow.

“I’m _not_ upset.” It was his turn to look skeptical, and she could hardly blame him when her tone sounded petulant even to herself. She let out an aggravated sigh and sat down at the vanity, trying to smooth down the mess her hair had become from the rain. Rupert came to stand behind her, resting his forearms against the back of the chair and looking at her in the mirror.

“You seemed just fine five minutes ago when you were watching me do those interviews,” he pointed out, and she tried to restrain the blush that threatened to engulf her entire face at being caught. “I would go so far as to say ‘ _mischievous_.’ All up until…” He trailed off as a knowing smile slowly made its way across his face. Emma didn’t like the look of that. At all. “Is this about _Jessie_?” he asked incredulously, with a heavy undertone of glee at the thought. Emma flushed hotly and denied it immediately.

“What? Don’t be absurd.” Rupert just grinned and she wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off his face. Even though what he said was true. Which was why she probably wanted to all the more.

“So to be clear, you were _not_ jealous?” She glared at his reflection in the mirror.

“Of course not!”

He smiled wickedly, bending down until his lips were right at her ear, his voice hot and soft against her cheek.

“Not even a little bit?”

She tried to swallow but found that her mouth seemed to have gone dry, giving her voice a raspy, wavering quality that she most certainly was not aiming for.

“ _No_.”

Rupert only chuckled in response and straightened up.

“Well, good. Because you have no reason to be.” Her eyes widened in disbelief at his ridiculous statement. Even though some part of her was comforted by his assurance, another _louder_ part bristled at his arrogance. She stood to face him and jabbed a finger at his chest accusingly.

“You know, I’ve never known you to be so presumptuous and it’s _not_ —” Before she could finish her sentence, or jab him again, her words were crushed into silence as Rupert quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her against his chest, settling his lips firmly against hers in a hard, demanding kiss. A wild thrill shot through her even as she turned away with a gasp. “—attractive,” she finished weakly before he took her face in his hands and kissed her again.

His mouth was gentler this time, moving against hers as if they had all the time in the world to find that perfect angle; that perfect fit. Emma’s heart seemed to go into overdrive, the hammering pulse pumping a rush of sweetly exotic sensations throughout her veins. She reached up to grip both of his wrists in her hands and was pleased to find that his pulse felt just as frenzied as her own.

Every time she thought he might pull back and stop, he only pressed further into her with deep, searching kisses. Before she knew what was happening, she felt the solid impact of the wall against her back. Although grateful for the support against Rupert’s impassioned assault on her senses, the jolt gave her a much needed reality check.

“Wait…” she managed to say between heaving breaths. “Wait, Rupert, _please_.” The desperation in her voice made him pause, forcing him to catch the breath he’d forgotten he needed. She looked at him with wide, imploring eyes and Rupert imagined he would have done anything she asked of him in that moment.

“I just…” she tried to clear her throat, and he could tell whatever she was about to say carried significant weight. “I just want to be clear,” she began hesitantly. “Don’t do this if you’re not… serious.” He grinned and brushed a light kiss at the top of her head. _Was that it?_ He let out a sigh of relief. He had never been more serious about anything in his entire life. If there were to be any barriers between them, _that_ certainly wasn’t going to be one of them. He could sense her apprehension at his answer, and he thought how best to answer her in a way that would calm and reassure her of his feelings.

He settled for pressing a soft, but deliberate kiss to her temple, his hands sliding down to cup the back of her neck while his thumbs stroked her jawline. He then moved slowly to press a kiss on the crest of each of her cheekbones, leaving a flush of color in his wake. When he leaned in to place a nuzzling, affectionate kiss to the corner of her lips, he could hear the unsteady rhythm her breathing had taken.

Leaning back, he watched as she looked up at him through her lowered lashes as if waiting to see what he’d do next. Although he was amendable to any and all paths that eventually led to his lips on hers, he wanted _her_ to take the initiative this time.

After a few moments passed and it became clear that he was waiting on her, she pursed her lips thoughtfully, making the most adorable little growls of frustration that made him want to just devour her on the spot. Eventually, she leaned forward tentatively, tilting her head up at the perfect angle for him to kiss her. She gripped the back of his arms and made slight tugging movements, insistently pulling him closer. He laughed softly before giving in and taking the shy offering, not too intent on prolonging the anticipation— no matter how delicious.

She made a pleased sound when his lips finally met hers, and Rupert felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the knowledge that he had been the cause. He parted her lips impatiently, using his tongue to delve into the exquisite taste of her. She opened to him with equal furor, drawing him deeper and playfully using her own tongue in a luscious duel that made him gasp and hold her more tightly.

He felt as if he were drowning in a tidal wave of sensation, wanting nothing more than to fall deeper and deeper under. Despite the dampness of her skin from the rain, she felt like sunshine in his hands, tasting like ripe strawberries and summer. He couldn’t imagine ever getting enough, even if he had a lifetime.

Emma felt one of his legs press between hers and she inhaled sharply at the rough feel of his trousers against her bare, inner thigh. She tightened her hold on his arms, urging him on even more.

A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she broke away from the kiss in a fit of giggles. Rupert merely moved up and down her jaw while her mouth was otherwise preoccupied. Wanting to know what had caused such an outbreak, though, he stopped and looked at her, the question clear on his face.

Emma lifted one of her hands to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggles that just wouldn’t stop, but it was no use. He rolled his eyes affectionately at her and pressed their bodies closer together in an attempt to make her focus.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked, automatically amused at whatever was making her smile like that.

She reached up to brush away an errant lock of his hair that was still quite damp from the downpour and he felt his heart pound unnaturally fast at the fond gesture. Still smiling, she traced the outline of his lips as she explained.

“It’s just that I’d always imagined you would taste like hot chocolate, and now I _know_ you do.” He hugged her tighter as he buried his laughs at her confession into the crook of her neck. She began threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck in soothing, rhythmic motions and he felt his whole body relax against hers. After a moment he braced his arms against the wall above her shoulders and smiled down at her.

“So not exactly like kissing your brother, eh?” He laughed at the way her face screwed up in disgust.

“Oh, _gross_. And I never would have said that if you hadn’t started it with all that _‘she’s practically like my sister’_ business.” He let out a disbelieving laugh at her accusation.

“ _What?_ I distinctly remember you were the first one to bring up comparisons to siblings. That whole mess is squarely on you, Ems.” They bickered for a few more minutes on who had started the stupid thing, before Emma started nipping at his ear and claiming his inevitable surrender.

He glanced down at her with narrowed eyes.

“Now _that_ wasn’t at all fair.” She smiled in a decidedly smug manner and patted his cheek in the most patronizing way.

“Maybe one day you’ll learn to be as persuasive as me,” she teased. His eyebrows rose at the provocative comment.

“Are you questioning my seductive prowess?” he asked her, his muscles tensing at the tempting thought of proving her wrong. She saw the determined glint in his eye and immediately tried to backtrack, unable to hold back a breathless laugh.

“Not at all, I just meant—”

“That you don’t think I can wrap you up in knots around my finger,” he finished for her, giving her a look that dared her to deny it. She hesitated for a beat before meeting his challenging gaze with one of her own.

“Well, _can_ you?” she taunted, greatly enjoying the flicker of shock that passed over his face at her bold dare. It went as quickly as it came though, and was soon replaced with one of lazy confidence. She was prepared for some witty comeback, some kind of clever rejoinder that would leave no doubt of his skills and make it clear he wasn’t lacking in any regard.

Which was why she was completely taken off guard when he grabbed both her wrists and pinned them against the wall, causing her to stand on the very tips of her feet. She gave him a startled look and he just smiled as he leaned in to kiss her briefly.

“Obviously now I have something to prove.” She began to protest, but when she felt the slow glide of his lips against the side of her neck, the words turned to dust in her mouth, washed away in a wave of mindless submission.   

The room became unnaturally silent for the next few minutes as he made a project of leaving no inch of the delicate skin of her throat untouched, the only sound that she registered being her own labored breathing. He dragged his mouth across the line of her collarbone, stopping to flick his tongue over the small hollow at the base of her neck. He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt the involuntary jerk of her entire body in response. Moving up to whisper in her ear, he asked her if she was ready to give in.

She shook her head stubbornly and he grinned eagerly at her reply, only too happy to continue.

He released his hold on her wrists and slid his palms down the length of her arms in a tortuously slow caress. Her breath hitched slightly when he didn’t stop until he was gripping either side of her waist in his hands. Wrapping one arm around her back, he pulled her flush against him until all of her weight was supported by his embrace. With his free hand he trailed his fingers along the curve of her shoulder aimlessly before moving further down, brushing lightly over the exposed skin of her plunging neckline.

Emma tried to stifle the moans that lodged in her throat at his touch, unwilling to show just how spectacularly she’d fallen under his spell. Nevertheless, a long contented sigh escaped from between her lips and he looked up at her, brought out of his distraction with the rise and fall of her breathing.

He saw the way her eyes had taken on a sleepy look, as if she had just woken up from a dream she didn’t want to let go of just yet and he couldn’t help the satisfied look that he could feel creep across his face; he had her, and she knew it.

“What about now?” he asked, relishing the knowledge that despite what she might say, he had just as much hold over her as she did him. She tried to bite back a smile, failing miserably.

“I suppose you’re not a complete loss.” Rupert growled at her playfully and she let out a shriek of delighted surprise when he lifted her with one arm and set her on top of the vanity table. The move made the skirt of her dress part until she could feel the cold air on her upper thigh, but when she reached to cover herself back up, he brushed her hands away and wedged himself between her knees, leaning in close. His arms were braced on either side of her and she couldn’t deny the excited thrill at being trapped thusly.

“Your turn, now,” he murmured thickly and Emma blinked at him in confusion.

“For what?”

“To prove how persuasive you can be.” She let out an amused huff.

“I think I’ve already proven that fact satisfactorily,” she pointed out smugly, tugging on his ear as if in reminder.

“Hardly,” he grumbled against her cheek. “That was merely a tease. I think I deserve a _full_ demonstration.” It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but when she saw the smile he flashed her, she couldn’t resist. Seeing him so carefree and openly affectionate made her pause in wonder, hardly able to grasp the fact that this was the same Rupert she’d known since she was nine. The two seemed completely different entities, and yet everything was so dearly familiar; the messy mop of shockingly ginger hair, the bright blue eyes…

She sat up straighter and took a deep breath, placing her hands bracingly against his shoulders. The expectant look slid from his face as she leaned closer into him, stopping only a few centimeters away from his lips.

“Don’t move,” she commanded in a whisper. “Move and you forfeit.” She shifted back and saw his Adam’s apple bob nervously as he nodded once in agreement. Smiling like a cat with its favorite toy in its grasp, she gripped the lapels of his jacket and pulled him forward. She rested her forehead against his and began to slowly open the jacket, pushing it past his shoulders and down his arms. It fell to the floor with a heavy _thwak!_ and she reached around him to grip the back of his arms, flexing her tight grasp into the hard muscle.

Feeling the shudder that wracked his body, she smiled to herself mentally. He was so adorably, wonderfully _easy._

In her effort to push him even further, she flicked her tongue out against his upper lip, tracing the outline of it slowly until he was visibly shaking with restrained desire.

“ _Emma…_ ” he said on a ragged sigh.

“Hush,” she chided gently, shifting forward to anchor him closer by tightening her legs around his waist.

Far from quieting, the move seemed to drive him over the edge of control as he let out a guttural groan and reached behind her head to pull her in for a proper kiss.

“Fine, fine,” he groaned against her jaw. “ _You win._ ” She would have crowed on about her obviously superior abilities then, but when he sucked on the sensitive spot behind her ear, all coherent thoughts fled her mind in an instant. She’d hold it over him later, but for now…

Her bones felt as if they had turned to melted honey when she felt him run his hands up the length of her legs, the rough callus of his palms creating a delicious friction that made her shiver. He let the full width of his hands cover the curve of her knees and when he started stroking the soft, unbearably sensitive skin behind them, she couldn’t hold back the helpless whimper.

“ _Oh god, Rupert_ —”

“Emma?”

The muffled sound of her name and the loud knock on the door made them both pause and look up. Emma shut her eyes tightly, letting out a mortified groan.

“It’s Louise,” she whispered to a surprisingly unconcerned Rupert. He shrugged as if the fact didn’t bother him and went back to kissing her neck.

“Yes?” she called out loudly enough to be heard past the door, her voice sounding a bit strangled— Rupert having just hit an especially tender spot. She squirmed in his embrace, only resulting in him clutching her tighter.

“It’s time to go on, now. Dan’s waiting for you. And Rupert as well, if anyone could find him…” She felt him laughing into her neck at that, and she couldn’t help but grin either.

“Okay, just give me a few minutes!” She could hear her handler’s impatient sigh all the way past the door and across the room.

“We don’t really have a few minutes here, love.”

Emma huffed as she hopped off the table and moved towards the door, trying to untangle herself from Rupert who had merely shifted to holding her waist from behind and continued to pepper kisses all along her jaw.

“Alright, I’m coming!” she yelled towards the door, her words serving as both an assurance to Louise and a warning for Rupert to cut it out.

“ _Really, now_?” she heard him whisper in her ear and she felt her whole body flush at his deliberate misinterpretation.

“Oh shut it, you,” she hissed under her breath, elbowing him in the gut. He finally released her and she heard him chuckle behind her.

Reaching the door, she opened it a crack to see a frazzled looking Louise. The older woman frowned down at her.

“What’s taking you so long?” she asked, eyeing her rumpled appearance suspiciously. Emma stammered nervously for a bit, a very telling blush creeping across the crests of her cheeks.

“Nothing, I was just—”

“Drying off!” Rupert’s voice called out from behind her. Louise looked surprised at the sound of another voice and Emma sighed resignedly, reluctantly opening the door wide enough for her to see Rupert shrugging into his jacket. A slow, knowing smile made its way across her face and Emma mentally groaned.

“Really?” she commented lightly, her eyes glittering with amusement. “Because you both look soaked.”

Both she and Rupert laughed at that and Emma tried to hide her undoubtedly reddening face.

She had a feeling she was _never_ going to hear the end of this.


	2. Afterparty

_Come to me tonight._  
  
Four words. That was all. The missive seemed simple enough, but as Emma stared down at the unsent text for a long moment, she agonized over whether to send it. Her head fell back against the door of her hotel suite as doubts started to creep into her mind where there was once only blind confidence.  
  
The adrenaline from the premiere and all the flurry of excitement started to wear off in the silence of her empty room, and she second-guessed the decision to invite Rupert over so late.  
  
The unwelcome voice of reason warred with every other part of her that was dying to be with him after what had happened earlier. Making a decision before losing her remaining nerve, she quickly pressed _send_.   
  
A quiet beeping noise signalled that the message had gone through, and she exhaled a long breath. An unsteady laugh stuck in her throat as she considered the possibility that it might have been better if she’d waited longer; let him feel at least a fraction of the uncertainty she had when he hadn’t said a word to her all throughout the entire movie or afterwards amid all the profuse congratulations and handshakes.  
  
She was sure that was what everyone would have told her to do, but with Rupert it was different-- she didn’t have any desire to play the coy games usually prescribed to such situations. She just wanted to be with him. Preferably now.  
  
Feeling an encouraging sense of calmness come over her, she pushed off the door and walked further into the room, kicking off her heels carelessly and leaving them where they fell. The calm was short lived though, when the full reality of inviting Rupert over really sunk in.  
  
A million thoughts ran through her mind on what she should do, the most prominent one that she could absolutely not be put off being _‘What to wear?’_  
  
She told herself that it shouldn’t matter, that her worry wasn’t proportional to its importance, but one glance at her closet, and she immediately clicked her speed dial in a panic.  
  
It rang for a full minute before she heard the familiar groggy voice.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Soph, I need your help. _It's urgent_." Emma heard a muffled groan, and smiled slightly as she pictured her best friend smothering her face in a pillow.  
  
"I have a shoot at four in the _morning_ , Ems," she moaned plaintively. There was a slight pause, another long drawn out sigh and finally the sound of bedsheets rustling as if she was moving to sit up. "But you knew that, so obviously this is important. What's up?"  
  
Emma chewed on her lip, unsure of how to even begin to explain that she planned on seducing her best friend of almost ten years whom she was completely mad over. So she tried to keep it as vague as possible.  
  
"Well, I'm kind of expecting someone over tonight and I'm not really sure what I should wear..." The rest of her sentence was promptly drowned out by the sudden sound of Sophie's shrill screaming. Emma winced and promptly held the phone an arm's length away, still able to hear the excited squeals loud and clear.  
  
"What! Tell me everything! Who's the guy? Do I know him? Oh my god, Ems! My baby's finally going to break her dry spell of--"  
  
"Yes!" Emma hurriedly interrupted, "I know how long it's been, alright? Which is why I need your help. I have no idea what I'm doing," she groaned miserably. The excited chattering on the other end of the line immediately shifted into one of intense businesslike focus.  
  
"Okay, give me the run-down."  
  
Emma went on to detail all the contents of her closet, pulling the options off the rack when Sophie made a particularly approving ' _Oooohh_!' When she came upon the negligee, though, she was stopped by Sophie's incredulous outburst.  
  
"Wait! Stop, stop. Are we talking about that black one I bought you for Christmas?" Emma was glad her friend was hundreds of miles away and therefore couldn't see the blush that bloomed all over her face.  
  
"Yeah, why?" She could hear Sophie make a decidedly unladylike snort on the other end.  
  
"Then why are we even having this conversation? That is _clearly_ what you should be wearing tonight." Emma held the lacy confection against her, looking in the mirror hesitantly.  
  
"I don't know," she began unsurely. "Won’t it just look like I’m asking for it?”  
  
There was a pause before she heard the amused voice on the other end.  
  
"But babe, you _are_."  
  
They both burst out laughing at the same time, and after a few more insistent prods and promises to spill all the details in the morning, they hung up a few minutes later.  
  
Emma eyed the garment on the hook and tilted her head to the side as she contemplated it. She chuckled and brought her hand to cover her mouth; if she was going to go through with this, she decided that she would _definitely_ need some wine.  
  
She walked over to kitchenette and was about to grab the complimentary bottle when something else caught her eye.  
  
 _Or perhaps something stronger_ , she thought mischievously and paused to grab a spoon.

 

***

  
Rupert stood in the hallway outside of Emma’s room, wondering whether or not he should knock.  
  
It had been over an hour since he’d gotten her text, and was now doubting if he should have come at all. Maybe she hadn’t waited for him, or had fallen asleep. He mentally groaned at his stupidity for dawdling the past hour when he really should have sprinted straight to her room after reading the enticing offer.  
  
He was just about to leave when a sound further down the hallway caught his attention. Turning to see what had caused it, he was met with the sight of one of the maids exiting another room with her service cart in tow. She noticed his gaze and stared back at him, a slight, suspicious frown spreading across her face.  
  
Realizing how he must look just standing in front of a hotel room that clearly wasn’t his, he quickly knocked on the door and called out Emma’s name before he came across as even more of a stalker. Considering whose room it was, he had no doubt security would be all over his ass no matter who he was.  
  
“ _Emma_?”  
  
The sound of her name and a knock at the door made Emma jerk up from her position on the couch, the entire length of her spine letting out the most grisly cracking noise she’d ever heard. She grabbed the back of her neck and shut her eyes against the aching pain, realizing that she must have dozed off in an unnatural, uncomfortable position.  
  
Standing up gingerly from the couch with a hand supporting both her back and neck, she hobbled over to the front door, thinking that in hindsight, testing out a number of seductive poses probably hadn’t been one of her brightest ideas.  
  
After all, last time she’d checked, walking like some hunchbacked villain was definitely _not_ sexy.  
  
On her way to answering the door, she happened to catch her reflection in one of the mirrors, stumbling over the heels that she’d carelessly kicked off earlier when she remembered with a thrill of horror that she’d changed into the negligee.  
  
A few choice curses escaped her lips and she heard another knock, the voice on the other side more hesitant than before.  
  
“Emma? It’s me, Rupert. Are you alright?”  
  
“I’m fine!” she called out in a strangled voice towards the door, scrambling to find something to cover up with. “Just a minute!”  
  
Seeing the bathrobe tossed over the back of a nearby chair, she grabbed it and hurriedly threw it on, tying it around her waist securely.  
  
She took a deep, calming breath and reached for the handle to finally open the door.  
  
The sight of Rupert standing there made her swallow hard, and she instinctively clutched her robe tighter, hoping that even the high neck of what she was wearing underneath was hidden from his view.             
  
“Hi,” she managed to get out after a moment.  
  
“Hey,” he replied with a smile. “I got your text.”  
  
She noticed that he hadn’t changed out of his suit yet, and seeing him exactly how he looked during the premiere-- albeit dryer-- made her insides twist at the memory of his mouth all over her and...    
  
“Right,” she said nervously, reaching up to rub the back of her neck. “Yeah, of course. Come in.”  
  
He stepped inside and she shut the door quickly, as if her subconscious was afraid he’d change his mind and bolt at any second. She bit down on her lower lip as she slid the chain lock into place.  
  
As well as the deadbolt.  
  
Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Rupert sauntered further into the suite as if it were an everyday occurrence that she invited him over late at night for unspecified reasons. She noted that he had already shrugged off his jacket and was currently loosening his tie as he sat down on the couch. The scene felt so utterly... _domestic_ , and Emma was surprised to find how much she was actually enjoying it.  
  
Snapping out of her maudlin thoughts, she moved over to the couch and took a seat next to him, finding to her horror that she had no idea what to say. What could she say after what had transpired between them? All she had wanted when she’d texted him earlier was his hands and mouth on her again. So much so, that she now felt like some sad echo of Oliver Twist, reduced to flat out begging for more.  
  
Her worrying about what to say turned out to be for nothing, though, when he finally made a comment on the premiere.  
  
“Crazy, innit? Every year I think it can’t possibly get madder, and yet every year it does.” He let out a happy sort of tired sigh, and she narrowed her eyes slightly, scrutinizing the minutiae of his expression in the hope that he was at least partially talking about their... _encounter_.  
  
As she did this, though, her head unconsciously tilted ever just so slightly to the side, agitating the sore muscles and causing her to let out a pained yelp. His gaze immediately focused on her, filling with concern as he scooted closer.  
  
“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” She shut her eyes as she clutched the back of her neck, wallowing at how horribly she was going about this. Painful injuries were definitely not an auspicious beginning to her plans. Especially those of the naughtier variety. Any other time she would have laughed at the irony of how the preparation for her seduction was what was effectively killing it, but she was too close to the situation at the moment to find any humor in it.  
  
“It’s just my neck,” she admitted painfully, entirely mortified at how she sounded as if she’d broken a bone rather than just sprained a muscle. “I think I twisted it.” His brow furrowed into the most adorable frown, and it was so achingly sweet that Emma thought it was almost worth all the pain just to see it. Operating word being _almost_. It’s not as if she were a masochist, or anything.  
  
Convinced that this whole night was over before it even began, it was an understatement to say she was shocked when he gently took her shoulders in his hands and turned her until her back was facing him.  
  
She immediately amended her previous statement; painful injuries definitely were a promising start. Her goal of getting his hands on her was accomplished, anyhow.  
  
He began to gently knead the base of her neck, and Emma had to hold back a moan at the instant relief his hands were eliciting. She felt his thumbs soothing the most affected area even through the thick fabric of her robe, and she wondered for a moment how he would react if she shrugged it off to reveal what was _really_ underneath. The thought made her grin, but she ultimately settled for a far less radical approach. Talking.  
  
“So about what happened earlier...” Her words trailed off when she felt his hands go still, and she wondered desperately if the dropping her robe option was still viable at this point. Groaning mentally, she knew she’d chosen her course of action, and now had to stick to it.  
  
The simple fact that she had been facing away from him was what made it easy for the words to come out at first, but as she turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder, what made it infinitely harder now.  
  
Realizing that her questioning look was partly because he’d stopped massaging her neck, he quickly went back to work with what Emma thought was an unwarranted focus.  
  
“Right, sorry. Go on.”  
  
She turned back around and thought hard about the right thing to say. Nothing in his tone had hinted at which way he was leaning on the matter of their earlier rendezvous, and if she were to judge what role he now played in her life by the way he was touching her, would conclude that he was her elderly doctor with all the clinical detachment he was displaying. She did take some comfort in the mere fact that he was here, and finally decided to just let the chips fall as they may.  
  
“I was thinking that now would be the perfect time for you to finish what you started.”       
  
Once again, his hands stilled, except this time Emma had no qualms about turning to see his reaction.  
  
He looked a little dumbfounded for a moment at the bluntness of her statement, but if the brilliant smile that was breaking out across his face was any indication, she’d said just the right thing.  
  
“So you don’t regret any of it?” he asked, and her brows drew together in frown.  
  
“God, no.”  
  
Her vehement response made him laugh and he wrapped his arms around her waist before saying, “ _Good_. That’ll make this so much easier.” Before she could ask him what he was talking about, he hauled her against his chest and kissed her eagerly, with all the pent up passion he’d been harboring ever since they’d been obligated to leave that back room at the premiere.  
  
She responded with equal, if not more, enthusiasm and he was dimly aware of the fact that she was pushing him to lie back onto the couch. He was perfectly happy with letting her have her way, until she suddenly ground her hips into him. His reaction was immediate, and if her low chuckle was any indication, hardly unnoticed. He broke away from her kiss with a strangled sort of gasp, struggling to sit up as a stream of platitudes fell from his lips.  
  
Assurances that ‘they didn’t have to rush into this tonight,’ had the opposite effect on her, only strengthening her determination. The implication that it was going to happen at some unspecified future date made her all the more sure that she wanted him _now_.  
  
He was still babbling when she let out an impatient sigh and stood up from the couch, turning to face him as she promptly undid the belt of her robe and let it fall to the floor.  
  
That shut him up.  
  
Emma couldn’t help the burst of pure feminine pleasure that washed over her at the sight of Rupert’s awed expression. For the first time since Sophie had bought her the damn thing, she actually felt grateful for the gift. It was nothing like what she’d usually buy, but if it had this kind of effect, she wouldn’t mind having one in every possible color.  
  
For his part, Rupert couldn’t understand how his body could be so still while the beat of his heart seemed to double every second he continued to stare at her. He felt completely paralyzed while his insides raged in a maelstrom of unholy lust. A minute or an hour could have passed and he wouldn’t have known the difference, neither one being an adequate amount of time to fully take in what she was wearing.  
  
His eyes devoured the sight of all that black lace-- dense, and yet tantalizingly sheer with glimpses of skin. The short hem made his mouth water, the demure fitted long sleeves and high neck only giving him an even more powerful desire to uncover what lay beneath.  
  
“Do you always wear that to sleep?” he asked inanely after a moment, thinking that he’d seriously underestimated the allure of those sleepovers she and Bonnie used to have if she did.  
  
She raised an eyebrow knowingly, as if she could see the territory his mind was wandering into and smiled deviously. Moving closer, she gripped one of his shoulders and placed her knee against his leg on the couch.  
  
"No," she said quietly in reply to his question. He swallowed thickly.  
  
"So you planned this?"  
  
She didn't respond right away, but continued to grin while she moved her other knee against his other side, effectively straddling him.  
  
" _Yes_."  
  
Her hands made their way upwards, her fingers gently stroking the soft hair at the nape of his neck.  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off with a silencing kiss.  
  
"No more questions," she demanded firmly before tracing the outline of his jaw with her lips. A deep sigh escaped him and he let his head fall against the back of the sofa, pulling her hips closer against him when she leaned down to take advantage of the angle and kiss the base of his neck.  
  
Emma saw his eyelids flicker shut, the resulting look of pure surrender on his face causing some dark and wild feeling to overcome her. Every corner of her mind filled with it, overflowing until the provocative thoughts tumbled from her lips in a rush of suggestions that would make even the girls over on Brick Lane blush.  
  
She paused when she felt his grip on her waist tighten, a thrill of anticipation shooting straight through her when he let out a low laugh even as his fingers dug painfully deeper into her side.  
  
“Don’t tempt me like that,” he groaned dramatically. “It can’t possibly be good for my health.”  
  
Pushing away from him, she raised her eyebrows questioningly. “You think I’m bluffing?” His placating, indulgent smile was answer enough, compelling her to grip his shirt tightly and yank him up until his face was only centimeters away from her own. “ _Try me_.”  
      
She could see how his demeanor shifted as he realized just how serious she was. His entire body seemed to relax into a deceptive stillness, as if tightly coiled and ready to spring at any moment. His breaths became shallow and uneven as his eyes darkened with some inscrutable expression.  
  
Moments passed by in a silence he apparently had no intention of breaking, while hundreds of meaningless words nervously gathered on the tip of her tongue and threatened to spill out, when he suddenly seemed to come back into himself. The dazed look fell from his face as he flashed her what was becoming an increasingly familiar grin, right before toppling her over onto her back.  
  
Although he had propped himself over her with his forearms, she couldn’t help but let out a small gasp of surprise at the feel of his weight bearing down on top of her, between her legs. The shift in position felt unspeakably intimate, a rush of both emotion and lust disorienting her enough to not notice him shift back and pick something up from the coffee table.  
  
Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the opened jar of Nutella in his hands. He was twisting the spoon into the chocolatey depths, looking at it with a mixture of curiosity and contemplation.  
  
“You really just eat it like this?” he finally asked, and Emma blinked in confusion.  
  
“Uhm, not usually...” Okay, well that wasn’t exactly true. “Just when I don’t have anything else.” Again, a lie. She wasn’t completely sure why she was being dishonest about her Nutella habits, of all things, but she assumed it was partly due to the strangely intent look in his eyes that made her pulse suddenly skitter.  
  
“Right,” he said calmly while setting the jar back down, “because it’s--”  
  
She inhaled sharply when he smeared the contents of the spoon right above her knee.  
  
“--a spread.”  
  
Emma felt paralyzed with the realization of what he was about to do, hardly daring to even breathe lest this was all just some insanely hot fantasy she was dreaming up.  
  
There was a metallic clatter when he tossed the spoon back onto the glass coffee table, and the sound echoed in her ears while she watched him lean back down and cup the underside of her knee as if moving in slow motion. The effect was sufficiently shattered, though, when his mouth finally found her bare skin. At that moment everything suddenly accelerated at once, not least of which was her heartbeat. And although she’d known what he was going to do, there was nothing that could have possibly prepared her for her response to the feel of his warm tongue against her bare skin.    
  
She made breathy, impatient noises as he methodically licked off the sticky spread, but it was when he started to drag his teeth lightly over the sensitized area that she finally let out a loud moan. He seemed pleased at that, and she couldn’t help smiling at the sound of his satisfied murmurs.  
  
He was peppering a string of lazy kisses along the length of her calf when his lips happened to brush against the back of her knee, causing Emma to jerk involuntarily.  
  
Rupert looked up quickly, a concerned look on his face.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly. “Did I...?”  
  
She waved off his concern, embarrassed at her reaction.  
  
“No, no it’s fine. It’s nothing, _really_.” Apparently she wasn’t convincing enough, because he eyed her skeptically for a moment.  
  
“Why are you blushing, then?”  
  
She could feel her cheeks grow warmer at the fact that he’d called her out, but was compelled to deny it anyways.  
  
“I’m not!”  
  
He laughed at her blatant lie and moved upwards until his face was level with hers, reaching down to stroke her leg comfortingly.  
  
“Come on,” he needled, putting on his most persuasive smile, “just tell me.” When his fingers started to move behind her knee, she jerked exactly like before, and he finally understood. “Oh my god,” he breathed out, utter glee lighting up his face. “You’re _ticklish_.”  
  
Her eyes widened as she spluttered for a moment, unable to respond coherently. Was she? She couldn’t remember ever experiencing it before, but then again it wasn’t as if she was in the habit of being touched there, either. Let alone tickled.  
  
For Rupert’s part, this new discovery seemed to delight him endlessly, and taking advantage of her distracted musings, sought to test his theory just to be sure. Again, after lightly stroking the sensitive spot, she reacted exactly as he was coming to expect. When he laughed at her surprised yelp, though, she moved to push his hand away.  
  
He resisted her as best he could, the attempted severity of her protests ruined by her uncontrollable giggling. “No, Rupert _don’t_ \--!” The rest of her sentence dissolved into some kind of cross between a squeal and a laugh as she squirmed beneath him.  
  
Unable to take anymore, she instinctively twisted her body and braced her forearms on the arm of the couch until her back was turned to him. He instantly became still, and she was about to tease him about how easily bested he was when the words died on her lips.  
  
Becoming hyper-aware of just how close he was, she realized that the entire length of her back was pressed up against him. She noticed that his breathing had become ragged and harsh in her ear, finding the knowledge that she could affect him so, oddly enthralling.  
  
Before she could dwell too much on that fact, all of her thoughts were abruptly wiped from her mind at the feel of his hands running down her side. They explored the expanse of her back possessively and she arched in response, not at all oblivious to possible comparisons to a cat under its master’s expert touch. It would have been accurate, in any case.  
  
He leaned in to kiss her cheek and she tilted her head to accommodate him better, annoyed at the barrier of the high neck of her outfit. Only a short while ago she’d blushed at how exposed she was, and now here she was, fervently wishing she were more so.  
  
As if reading her mind, Rupert’s hand went to the back of her neck, undoing the the topmost fastening with more than a little bit of difficulty. He let out a frustrated breath.  
  
“ _Damn_ , how did you even get this on?” Emma bit back a laugh, reluctant to tell him that the buttons were mostly just decorative and all he had to do was pull it over her. Unwilling to shatter the mystery of it for him, she merely let out an enigmatic chuckle.  
  
He sighed dramatically, realizing he wasn’t going to get an answer, and went back to fumbling with the delicate, fabric-covered buttons one loop at a time. She smiled privately to herself, concluding that if he wanted it off her, she wouldn’t mind him working for it a bit.  
  
A minute later she was regretting the decision to tease him, finding that as his fingers became more sure and efficient, _she_ was the one becoming more and more unhinged. With every undone button, he pressed a kiss to the newly revealed skin, hardly giving her a chance to catch her breath.  
  
When he finally reached the last one, she was about to let out a relieved sigh when she suddenly felt his tongue dip into the dimple at her lower back. Any sense of patience she might have had, which was admittedly very little at the moment, flew out the window without a backward glance.  
  
She turned around quickly and grabbed his face between her hands, pulling him down to meet his lips with hers. He seemed caught off guard at first, but was soon lost in the kiss, her ardent response only fueling his own.  
  
He was so distracted with the furious workings of her tongue that he didn’t even realize they were sitting up until he heard a ripping sound. Looking down in surprise, he became aware of the fact that she’d been undoing his shirt, clearly not possessing the same regard for buttons as he did. He couldn’t be bothered by it for too long, though, when her hands were all over him a second later.  
  
Emma marvelled at the feel of his bare skin, letting her hands wander all over his chest and abdomen before finally settling on his back. The shifting muscles of his shoulders under her palms excited her beyond words, but it was when he bit lightly on her lower lip that she lost all consideration for pretense.  
  
Breaking away from him and moving to stand up, she held out her hand. “Come on,” she beckoned, her voice roughened with desire. His gaze looked a little unfocused, and knowing that his silence was borne out of a sense of astonishment and not hesitance, grabbed his tie and pulled him forward.  
  
He instinctively followed her command, and the second she was sure he knew exactly where she wanted to go, tilted her head back up towards his. When he kissed her this time though, there was something different about it; something entirely wicked and purposeful. The thought made her visibly shudder as she tried to focus on removing his tie while he busied himself with unbuckling his belt.  
  
They stumbled through the doorway of her bedroom, leaving a messy trail of Rupert’s clothes all over the place until he was left in only his boxers. She glanced down and saw the pink band, smiling at the memory of Dan’s reaction earlier that morning. It seemed ages ago that they were in this very suite, just friends and nothing more. It felt like a lifetime since he’d kissed her in that back room, when in reality she could count on her hand how many hours had passed. She wondered at how merely half a day could turn her life completely upside down, and what’s more, that she would _like_ it so much.  
  
She was abruptly jerked out of her musings when Rupert bit down gently on her earlobe. Not wanting him to see how her knees were about to completely give out at the move, she pushed him down onto the bed and promptly collapsed on his lap.  
  
His hands immediately went to tangle in her hair, and a small part of her brain was already bemoaning what a nightmare it was going to be to deal with in the morning, when she realized what he was actually doing. Her heart leapt into her throat when she recognized that he was gently taking out the multitude of hairpins that were uncomfortably tugging at her scalp, one by one.  
  
He kept at it until her hair fell down in tousled waves, while she tried to blink back the tears that had gathered in the corner of her eyes. The tender gesture completely undid her, quashing any and all doubts that might have been lingering in the dark recesses of her mind. If she had ever been unsure that Rupert was someone to whom she could entrust her heart, she was fortunate enough now to know what perfect, utter clarity felt like.  
  
When he was finally finished with his task, he ran his hand through her hair, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. Satisfied that he’d gotten all of them, he finally looked down and noticed that she was staring at him with a strangely earnest expression.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Oh, nothing,” she said with a small smile. “I just...” Her face became serious as she reached out to trace the line of his collarbone with a feather-light touch. “I just want you so much,” she finished eventually. The words seemed wholly inadequate to describe the extent of what she was feeling for him, but it was the first thing that came to her mind.  
  
Far from thinking they weren’t enough, Rupert was completely devastated by them. Being in his line of work, he’d have thought himself inured to the power of words, knowing just how they could manipulated to serve a certain purpose. He wasn’t even aware of how deep seated that cynical part of him was until he’d heard those words from her lips and finally understood what true sincerity felt like.  
  
Not trusting himself to say the right thing, he carefully laid her back down onto the bed and kissed her deeply, hoping she could feel even a fraction of her effect on him. He broke away to catch his breath after a minute, and promptly stuck his foot in his mouth.  
  
“I’m sure that’s what you tell all the boys,” he said jokingly, immediately regretting his choice of words. He prayed she at least heard the self-deprecating tone in his voice, and didn’t take it the wrong way.  
  
 _Christ_ , he’d been right not to trust himself.  
  
She looked up then, and the vulnerability in her expression made him want to kick himself.  
  
“I’m not... this isn’t...” she struggled to find the right words to express herself, her gaze imploring him to understand that tonight was different somehow; special in a way she couldn’t quite define yet. “I don’t usually _do_ this,” she finally admitted in a small voice, her earlier bravado receding somewhere into the background for the moment.  
  
He held himself still, a thoughtful look on his face as he was suddenly reminded of how much younger she actually was. It was so easy to forget, in the whirlwind of her general brilliance at everything, that she was in fact two years younger than him. The thought was sobering, only reinforcing his intention to take things slowly.  
  
The fact that he was here, able to say he was taking said ‘things’ anywhere _at all_ , quickly wiped the serious look off his face, replacing his frown with a grin instead.  
  
“I’m a man of simple tastes myself,” he began with a maddeningly unaffected air, “but I suppose I _could_ walk you through it,” he teased mercilessly.  
  
Her face scrunched up into one of her adorable scowls, and she shoved at his shoulder, though without any real heat behind it.  
  
“That’s _not_ what I meant,” she grumbled irritably as Rupert tried to retain his grip on her squirming limbs. After a few moments he finally pinned her back down, smiling as he moved in closer.  
  
“I know,” he chuckled right before kissing her temple tenderly. He leaned back, looking at her directly in the eye before repeating much more seriously, “ _I know_. It’s the same for me, too.”    
  
Emma could see the genuineness of his expression, and it occurred to her that just as she was seemingly rushing into this, despite years of longing and pining, the same could be said of him. Nothing about tonight was, _or would be_ , anything less than a culmination of thousands of days, shared memories, and unresolved tension between the two of them. It was an inevitability that any other normal couple would have reached much sooner, and yet she couldn’t help but think that all the extra time it had taken them to get to this point was somehow essential.

 

The thought that this meant just as much to him as it did to her was a balm to her anxious heart, making it easier for her to relax back into his hold and gradually forget about her more serious musings.       

  
It was hard to even remember that anything existed outside of the room when Rupert moved back into a kneeling position between her legs and reached behind to slowly pull the negligee down over her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if he was doing it on purpose, but the pace at which he pulled it past her arms and chest seemed tortuously slow. The roughness of the fabric created a delicious friction against her skin, and she felt half out of her mind with desire by the time he let it bunch at her waist in a puddle of lace.  
  
The way he was looking at her now didn’t help ease the sense of urgency at all, his gaze affecting her as if an actual caress. A moment later and she didn’t need to imagine what it would feel like, as his hands reached out to follow the trail his eyes had left.  
  
When she felt the calloused surface of his palms cup her breasts, her hands shot out reflexively to hold them there. Her back arched mindlessly as she held him tightly, loving how wanton the simple touch made her feel. Wanting more, she pulled him down until he was laying directly on top of her.  
  
Interestingly, the sensation of his bare chest against hers had a far different effect than what she’d imagined. Whereas his hands had started a firestorm of lustful urges, the intimate press of his entire upper body made her inexplicably think of home. Not as a place, but a feeling.  
  
It was as if thousands of song lyrics and various lines from books suddenly made sense. As if an unknown depth of emotion had suddenly been revealed to her. Or, if she had been aware of it before, never imagining she’d actually be capable of it.         
  
Her nails dug into his back as she clutched him closer, the suddenly acute need for him to be inside her overwhelming all of her senses.  
  
“Rupert,” she managed to rasp out against his cheek, “I need you. _Now_.”  
  
He turned his head to face her, and a look of shared understanding passed between them. It was a promise of other nights; of other times that they would take it slower and spare no expense in their exploration of each other.  
  
But not tonight.  
  
Tonight was a time to be greedy and finally take what they’d waited and wanted for so long. He could see how the tension in her shoulders was strung tight as a bow, and his entire body ached with the need to give her exactly what she craved.  
  
A bout of laughter threatened to escape Emma’s lips at the sight of Rupert’s ungainly efforts to rid them of their last few layers of clothing, but then he was suddenly inside her and all she could do was gasp loudly instead.  
  
He entered without preamble, driving into her with the furious pace he knew they both needed. The more he tried to narrow his focus to this one task, though, the more he became distracted by... _everything_.  
  
It was as if all of his senses had somehow heightened into overdrive. Her warm breath down the back of his neck burned him like an open flame; the sound of her uneven panting in his ear turning him on to an almost painful degree. Ultimately, though, it was the sight of her freckles that really did a number on him.  
  
He suddenly recalled a long-forgotten memory of when they were younger, back when they were on set of that first movie. She’d fallen asleep during one of their shared lessons, and their tutor, torn between waking her up or wasting valuable time, had settled for giving him an unplanned lecture about astronomy.  
  
The whole idea of stars had been too abstract for him to fully grasp, but later, when he’d stayed and laid his head down next to hers, he came to understand constellations pretty well after hours of just staring at those freckles. How a smattering of seemingly random dots could connect into the most amazing shapes.  
  
Emma’s frantic moans snapped him out of his musings, and he realized with a jolt that she was close to reaching that elusive edge. He pumped into her with renewed vigor, whispering words of encouragement and praise; a stream of sweet nothings falling from his lips to her ear.  
  
When she finally came in a series of shuddering gasps, he was struck by the observation that her freckles were the same. He could still see the familiar shapes he’d noticed as a boy, and it was that curiously comforting fact, coupled with the way she was currently still clenching around him with her luscious wet heat that finally sent him over into the abyss.  
  
He hadn’t needed to close his eyes to see stars, though.

 

***

  
The ringing of the bedside phone woke Rupert up, and noticing that it was still mostly dark outside, squinted over at the clock to see the numbers _5:13 AM_ flashing back at him. He let out a groan at the ungodly hour, and turned over on his side to gently nudge Emma.  
  
“Emma? Hey, did you put in for a wake up call?” No answer. “Ems?” She shifted a little and let out an unintelligible answer, mostly due to the fact that she appeared to be speaking more to her pillow than him. He rolled his eyes and decided to take care of the caller himself, knowing that they wouldn’t stop until someone picked up.  
  
Leaning over to grab the receiver, he felt Emma burrow closer into him, wrapping her arm dangerously low on his hips while burying her face in the curve of his neck. Decidedly liking this unwelcome wake up call more and more, he answered the phone with a significantly more cheerful tone than he’d originally planned to use.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Hey, so I’ve got five minutes until the makeup crew gets back and I have to leave, so I want to know everythi--” The excited chatter on the other end abruptly broke off, as if the speaker had just realized that he was not the person they wanted to talk to. “Wait,” the female voice said slowly, “who’s this?”  
  
Rupert swallowed nervously, unsure of what he should say. Announcing his presence in Emma Watson’s bed at a suspiciously early hour was, even to his standards, probably not the best idea. Thinking that it was time to pass it off to Emma at this point, he made to slowly end his part without any more fanfare.  
  
“Here, let me get Emma for yo--” He wasn’t sure why he thought that he might possibly get away unnoticed, but the now familiar voice of Emma’s best friend squashed that hope with one well-placed squeal.  
  
“ _Rupert?!_ Is that you? Oh my _god_!” The ensuing high-pitched noises of disbelief and maniacal laughter were heard from a distance as he held the receiver an arm’s length away in an attempt to salvage what was left of his eardrums. Meanwhile, Emma shifted beside him, as if waking up against her will, and looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.  
  
“What’s going on?” she murmured sleepily. “Who’s calling?” He gave her an apologetic look before answering.  
  
“It’s Sophie.”  
  
Her eyes widened instantly, all traces of drowsiness evaporating as she crawled frantically over his torso to grab the phone from his outstretched hand.  
  
Bringing the receiver flush against her cheek, she ground out a hello that sounded more like a demand than a greeting. There was a pause as she listened to whatever Sophie was saying, but soon interrupted with a somewhat contrite, “Yes I know, maybe I should have...” A heavy sigh and another pause.  
  
To Rupert’s amusement, he saw a blush start to spread across her cheeks. He tried to sit up and lean closer to hear what exactly was causing such a reaction from her, but was stopped when she threw him an exasperated look and pushed him back down against the pillows.  
  
She was beet-red when she apparently couldn’t take any more of what was being said on the other end and cut the call short.  
  
“Sorry, I’ve gotta go, babe! I’ll call you when I land, okay? Love you, _bye now_!” She slammed the phone back onto the dresser before she could hear any more protests and let out a long, weary sigh. She looked so adorably tousled and embarrassed that it took all his strength not to reach out and pull her up against him. And he knew he really shouldn’t, but...  
  
“Sooo...” he began in a tone as subtle as an oncoming train. “What’d she say?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him with a look that clearly said she didn’t want to talk about it, but a rueful grin crept its way across her face anyways.  
  
“She just wanted to congratulate me about last night,” she said off-handedly. At Rupert’s raised eyebrows, she rushed to clarify. “The premiere! About the _premiere_!” She punched his shoulder when he just laughed. “Honestly, Rupes, you are _so_ \--”  
  
He never found out what he was (although he had a pretty good inkling) because he really did reach out and grab her then, settling his lips firmly down on hers. She made a mental note to tell him later, but for now...  
  
Well, they had four hours until they had to be at Heathrow, and she had better ideas on how to spend them.  


	3. Cut To

For not the first (or second, or third, truth be told) time that flight, Emma reached for one of the little sample bottles of lotion and spread the fragrant cream all across her palms. As she rubbed the excess up along her arms, she wondered if there was such a thing as over-moisturizing. If there was, it would've been obvious to anyone with eyes that she was definitely at risk; her little fold down tray littered with empty packets and bottles of the stuff.

Realizing just how manic she must have appeared then, she stopped and looked around furtively before gathering and stuffing all of them in the neighboring seat's compartment.

Letting out a loud sigh, she settled further into her seat and focused on the view out her window. She'd made this same cross Atlantic flight countless times before in her life, but this one had her especially jumpy and restless. And there really was no denying why.

It had been two months since she'd last seen Rupert. Two months since she'd packed up a scant three boxes of belongings and started her first semester away at Brown University. She remembered how excited she'd been when her acceptance letter had arrived, all the plans and arrangements she'd happily made.

All of them before Rupert.

What happened in London hadn't been anything she'd planned for, and after spending a positively blissful rest of the summer with him-- her cheeks reddened at the memory of clandestine meetings and stolen moments around their press junket rounds— she'd greatly underestimated just how difficult it would be to say goodbye.

They'd been apart before, of course, and for much longer stretches of time, but never with what they now had between them. The eight hour flight that would necessitate any visit now seemed a positively insurmountable distance compared to weeks of staying in the same hotels within an arm's reach of one another. She wasn't quite sure how it'd all work out.

And with how they'd left things...

She was suddenly pulled from her musings at the sound of the pilot's voice over the intercom's speakers announcing that they'd be landing soon. Her heart started to pound relentlessly with a strange combination of anticipation and anxiety at the prospect of seeing him again.

When she'd texted him about the possibility of visiting over her school's weeklong break for Thanksgiving, he'd seemed enthusiastic enough, but like always, she was unable to read anything more into his reply. Which wasn't to say that she necessarily should have, or even could have, considering it was Rupert she was talking about. In all the years she'd known him, she'd never quite fully been able to read him. She shouldn't have expected a few months together to change that.

Not that it had stopped her from thinking about it constantly. Even now, as she stood to exit the plane, speculations about what exactly Rupert thought this visit meant plagued her mind.

The familiar walk through the bustling terminals of Heathrow towards the pickup area calmed her a bit, but it was only when she disembarked the escalator and immediately spotted the driver Rupert must have sent that she cracked a genuine smile. There was no doubt in her mind that the sign he was holding up was meant for her.

She flagged him down with a wave and he quickly came to take her luggage, guiding her outside to the curb where a car waited. It struck her as a bit odd when he helped her into the front passenger side, but it became clear why when she realized there was already someone in the driver's seat.

"Rupert?!" she cried out in surprise, her mouth agape with shock at his unexpected presence. It took her a moment to take in the sight of him, his trademark graphic t-shirt dressed up with a black leather jacket that Emma was convinced was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. He grinned at her reaction, taking his sunglasses off to get a good look at her.

"Miss me?" he asked lightly, his eyes dancing with mischief.

There were a million things she could've possibly said in reply; some equally light or sarcastic response, but she was too overcome with the pure pleasure of seeing him for any of them. Instead she chose to just grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him over the seat divider for a hard kiss.

She could feel the jolt of shock that went through him, and after eventually breaking away, enjoyed the slightly dazed look on his face. "Does that answer your question?" she asked impishly, as he seemed to get his bearings back and grin at her.

"More or less," he laughed, putting the car into gear when he heard the knock on the back window signaling that all the luggage had been packed in. Emma eyed the man that she'd thought had been her driver as Rupert gave him a wave, and she thought about the sign from earlier, amused at the lengths he'd taken to be the one to pick her up.

"So," she began leadingly, " _Mae Stowman_ , huh?" She watched the smile spread across his face as he maneuvered out of the crowded airport traffic and onto the freeway.

"Liked that, did you?" he asked in return, looking pleased with himself at the clever little anagram he'd used to avoid any unwanted attention at arrivals. "Knew you would." She leaned over the divider and took one of his arms in hers, hugging it closely as she let out a chuckle.

" _Oh yes_ ," she answered in an only somewhat joking tone. "Made me feel like some sort of undercover spy."

"Well in that case, I look forward to her next appearance," he said, his voice lowering in a meaningful way. Understanding his thinly veiled reference to some sort of sexy role-play game, she was suddenly very grateful that his eyes were focused on the road ahead and not on her reddening face. "Anyways," he continued bracingly after a heated moment, changing the subject. "Tell me all about Brown and the over-achieving eggheads you've met." She laughed at his teasing remark, not that it was at all inaccurate. The place was crawling with your classic Type-A personalities.

"You sure we have time? There are _a lot_ of eggheads there," she intoned with mock seriousness.

"We have a long drive," he informed her, glancing down with a smile. "Now spill."

***

The sound of the driver's side door opening caused Emma to wake up slowly, realizing that they'd finally arrived at Rupert's place. She sat up drowsily, wondering when exactly she'd fallen asleep on the drive over here. It must have been awhile ago if the countryside view was any indication, the crowded city landscape having given way to rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Stepping out of the car gingerly (her foot apparently having fallen asleep along with the rest of her), she took a minute to take in the huge house before her, admiring the beautiful structure and surrounding estate.

She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting when she envisioned Rupert's home, but the traditional (if not ridiculously expansive) style was definitely not it. A small castle or some sort of eccentric building would have been more on-par with what she'd imagined he would feel at home in. The fact that he'd chosen something so sensible looking on the outside made Emma grin. Even after years and years of knowing him, he still had the ability to surprise her. The thought was oddly both comforting _and_ exciting.

Hearing his footsteps on the gravel approach from behind, she turned to flash him a brilliant smile.

"So what do you think?" he asked, searching her face earnestly as he shifted his grip of her luggage over his shoulder. The movement distracted her for a moment, the inadvertent flexing of his bicep deliciously obvious even through his jacket.

"It's amazing," she said honestly, satisfied that it was an appropriate answer to his question, whether he was referring to her opinion of the house or the state of his arms. Although she was pretty sure it was the former, never let it be said she'd thought anything otherwise on the latter. That jacket _did_ things to her.

He looked down at the ground then, and Emma was pleasantly puzzled over what appeared to be a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. If she didn't know better, she might have thought he actually looked a little... _shy_ at her praise. Unable to come up with a reason why he would feel such a thing over her opinion of his house, her eyebrow quirked upwards questioningly. There was no time for her to ponder on the meanings or implications of his reaction even if she'd wanted to, because a second later he was suddenly ushering her inside the front door.

Realizing that laughing outright upon her first steps inside his house might be construed as highly offensive, she stifled the impulse behind her hand as she stepped further in, soaking up the sight around her.

If the traditional facade of the house outside was a strangely contrary picture to its master's personality, the interior more than made up for it.

Everywhere Emma turned, there was an explosion of color in the bright displays of various nick-knacks and assorted memorabilia; jumbled clusters of clashing, mismatched furniture that somehow against all rules of tasteful design, seemed to complement each other perfectly. If he'd been aiming for barely controlled chaos, he'd accomplished it with aplomb. She felt a prickling of excitement just standing there, observing everything, the prospect of uncovering every little thing completely irresistible to her curious nature. Especially when it came to any and all things related to Rupert.

She turned in a slow, full circle before her gaze fell back on him, reminding her that his interesting collection of things weren't the only irresistible thing in the room. He was leaning up against a column in that maddeningly attractive way he had, just watching her, and she wondered if he knew how it affected her to see him in such a casual, blasé pose. She wouldn't put it past him to use such a move against her; he was absolutely ruthless in exploiting such weaknesses when he became aware of them, using it to his advantage at the most inopportune times.

His propensity for catching her off guard was actually one of her favorite things about him, though. Not that he was aware of that little nugget of information. Nor would he, she added mentally. Moving to brace herself against some much needed support, she propped her elbows against the back of a nearby couch and studied him in return, the corner of her mouth lifting in a sly little smile.

"So what now? What are your plans for us tonight?"

Rupert instantly recognized the inviting look in her eyes, the very air around them turning electric as any plans to give her a cursory tour around the estate evaporated in his suddenly intense desire to acquaint her with only one room.

_His_.

He dropped her bag to the floor and made his way over to where she was, coming to stand right in front of her while he trapped her within the cage of his arms. She didn't look away from him once, and he reveled in her attention almost as much as the feel of her deep breaths against his chest.

"I had some ideas," he replied nonchalantly, "but I think after such a long flight you should head to bed." She raised her eyebrow at that, and he saw the question in her eyes.

"But I'm not tired," she argued, and he flashed her a wicked grin.

"I know."

He could see the exact moment she understood what he meant, the slight hitch in her breathing and the way her eyelashes fluttered all very telling. His gut tightened with anticipation at her ensuing smile, and he could practically count the mere seconds it would take for him to lead her upstairs.

She pulled on the edge of his jacket, bringing him closer until his lips brushed up against hers. Her mouth opened to say something, but just then, there was a rustling sound off to their side and they were interrupted by a slight coughing sound.

" _Ahem_."

Emma immediately jerked upright at the sound, letting out a muffled squeak that he would have normally found adorable if she hadn't looked so alarmed. For his part, Rupert had instantly recognized the amused lilt of that familiar voice. He turned to confirm his guess and let out a forbearing sigh at the sight of his elderly groundskeeper standing there. This was really not an ideal time for the sparse staff he had to suddenly be underfoot.

"Bill," he said in greeting as he straightened to face the other man. "What can I do for you?" Rupert held back a scowl at the other man's undisguised curiosity, the slightly smug curve of his smile making Rupert wary.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," he began apologetically, gesturing towards the two of them with a knowing grin. "Just wanted to know if you wanted me to take in the Cooper for maintenance." Rupert nodded, fishing around his pockets for the keys and tossing them over when he found them. "Didn't realize you were having guests over," Bill threw out leadingly, no doubt angling for more information on the unexpected visitor before him.

Satisfied that the intruder was not in fact some thief or criminal as was her first inclination, Emma nudged Rupert's elbow, her raised eyebrows indicating for him to make introductions.

"Right, yeah," he began awkwardly, gesturing between the two of them. "Emma this is Bill, my groundskeeper and mechanic. Bill, this is my g—" He caught himself abruptly before he could finish, stammering as he hastily tried to cover his impulse to use _that_ word. "My... uhhh... Emma. This is Emma," he finished lamely, fully aware of the slightly strangled tone his voice had taken on.

Thankfully, neither one of them called him out on it (although Bill did manage to send him a speculative look), but there was a moment when Rupert thought he saw a flash of some inscrutable look in Emma’s eyes. Before he could fully register it, though, she was stepping forward to exchange greetings and shake hands with Bill, a perfectly smooth smile in place. As she began to make small talk, he wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing, her expression devoid of any sign of distress.

He scrutinized her face closely, looking for any clue as to whether he’d upset her with his near slip.

They’d spent the whole summer attached at the hip, but Rupert was still uncertain of what exactly they were to each other. There was no doubt in his mind what she was to him, but even _he_ knew that it’d probably have to be a mutual understanding before he went around introducing her as his girlfriend.

The uncertainty he’d been harboring about where they stood had only festered over these last few months while she was away at Brown. It wasn’t as if he begrudged her for leaving, not at _all_ , but it did prove a difficult obstacle when they were at such an ambiguous stage in their relationship. He’d imagined picking up the phone and calling her, just to say how much he’d missed her, but his hesitation coupled with his already reserved disposition had resulted in nothing coming of it.

It would have been an understatement to say that it just wasn’t in his nature to talk about such things. Hell, if he was being perfectly honest, to talk about _anything_ , let alone these messy complicated matters. Which, of course, made the prospect of asking her outright so impossible.

It took him a few seconds to realize through his clouded thoughts that he was being addressed, Emma’s expectant tone grabbing his attention.

“… right, Rupes?”

Both she and Bill were looking at him, and he at least had the decency to blush at being caught not paying attention.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked sheepishly, his hands digging deep into his pockets reflexively. She eyed him with a hint of amusement before repeating herself.

“I was just saying that we’d love to have Bill and Jean for dinner tonight. Yeah?”

Rupert’s brow furrowed in puzzlement, wondering how she’d wrangled a dinner with his usually shy groundskeeper and wife within a mere few minutes of acquaintance. He supposed it was that famous Watson charm. It’s not as if Bill was the first to fall victim to it. Rupert could easily attest to that.

“Oh, yeah. ‘Course,” he agreed, violently shoving down the disappointment as all his plans from a few minutes ago dissipated into thin air.

***

Dinner, as it turned out, was not actually the complete nightmare he feared it’d be. Emma was her usual captivating self, and both Bill and Jean took an immediate liking to her. A little _too_ much if you asked him, though, their eager willingness to share his more embarrassing stories not quite what he had in mind as the dominant topic of conversation.

It was admittedly worth a few cringes to see her throw her head back in laughter like that, enjoying the way she seemed to fit perfectly into this part of his life as well as all the others. Their lives had been so consumed by the nature of their work that there were very few parts that still belonged to only them. And yet, it felt natural that he should give over even those pieces to her as well; more than natural, but _right._

Before long, their guests finally started making their excuses and helping to clear the table. Rupert was shaking Bill’s hand while Jean was promising to give Emma the recipe to the strawberry tart she’d brought.

“—Thank you for having us tonight, dearie. It’s always so nice to meet Rupert’s friends.” He could see Emma stiffen imperceptibly at the words out of the corner of his eye, and he turned towards her to see her struggle to keep the smile on her face as she said goodbye as pleasantly as she could.  

After waving them off through the back door as they drove away, Emma walked back towards the island, her posture unnaturally rigid and her movements stiff as she began putting dishes in the dishwasher. He could see that something was off, and he slowly came up to her side.

“You don’t have to do that,” he offered, waving his hand at the dishes. “I’ll get to them later.” She continued to load them methodically, ignoring him as if she hadn’t heard him. “Uhm, really,” he tried again, “it’s fine. You don’t need—”

“Why exactly do you think _I’m here_?” she suddenly burst out, whirling to face him angrily. His eyes widened in surprise, not expecting the furious look she was giving him. There was a long pause before he could even think to respond.

“Uh… I’m guessing not to do my dishes?” he joked weakly, the uncertainty at her rapid change in mood evident in his voice. This seemed to only incense her further, though, and she slammed the fully loaded rack backwards with her heel.

“I’ll do your dishes if I _want_ to!” she yelled back in response, and Rupert couldn’t have looked more shocked than if she’d suddenly grown three heads and spoken in fluent Latin. He would have laughed at the absurdity of the fact that they were having an argument about her doing his dishes, but her very real anger stopped him. He’d seen Emma angry before, but never to the point of yelling, and never at _him_.

(Well, except for on-set, of course. He’d definitely been on the receiving end of numerous well-scripted set downs from her. But did that really count?)

“Okay…” he began slowly, eyeing her warily as she crouched down and started rifling through the cupboards in search of something. “What’s wrong? Why are you angry?” She made a frustrated sound somewhere in the back of her throat as she shut another cupboard with undue force.

“Where’s the soap?” she demanded crossly instead of answering.

Realizing that he might very well be risking life and limb at the moment, he reached down to grip the back of her arm and pull her up until she was facing him. Or, at least her body; her face was determinedly looking everywhere but at him. Taking the fact that she wasn’t currently shoving him away as a good sign, though, he pressed on cautiously.

“ _Ems_ ,” he implored softly, “What’s the matter?” He could feel the slight tremors that went through her then, and he gradually pulled her closer until she was practically leaning into him. When she finally spoke, her voice trembled as if she were holding back tears.

“What did London mean to you?”

“ _What_?”

“That night in London,” she clarified, and he realized she was talking about the night of the premiere. “Or the whole summer, for that matter,” she continued, her voice getting stronger with every word. “What did— _does_ — that all mean to you exactly?”

_Everything_ was his immediate thought, but he held back, not sure what she wanted to hear.

“It means a lot to me,” he answered, his tone earnest if not slightly measured. “ _You_ mean a lot to me.” She pursed her lips slightly, as if that wasn’t quite the answer she wanted to hear. “What do you want me to say?” he asked, devoid of any accusation, only real desperation. “You know how I feel and—”

Emma stepped away from him abruptly at that, her gaze finally meeting his.

“That’s just it! I don’t! I _don’t_ know, Rupert.”

She shifted restlessly, crossing and uncrossing her arms, and he felt as if they were finally coming to the crux of the matter.

“I thought we were okay when I left, but I can count on one hand how many times we’ve spoken over the past two months, which don’t even really count because they were _texts_ , and now that I’m here you won’t even… even…”

She looked angry as she struggled to verbalize this offense of his that had her so upset, and he stared at her intently, trying to figure out what exactly he’d done.       

“ _…introduce me as your girlfriend_!” she finally flung at him, and he didn’t even have time to absorb the shock of her words as she now seemed to be on a roll. “…I mean, what does that say about what you think this is?” she continued agitatedly. “Are we even exclusive? Are you seeing other people right now? _Oh god!_ I wouldn’t be surprised if—”

She was cut off then, and she looked at Rupert with abject horror at the reason:

_He was laughing._

It wasn’t even a nervous titter, or a self-deprecating chuckle, but full-blown, proper _laughter_.   

She was so stunned at his reaction that she couldn’t even muster the fury that should have followed such an inopportune outburst, only succeeding in opening and closing her mouth wordlessly like an indignant goldfish.

“Is that what this is all about?” he finally asked when his laughing subsided enough for him to speak. Emma glared at him as he moved to stand in front of her again, not at all happy that he wasn’t taking this seriously.

Before she could berate him about it though, she suddenly found her lips pressed firmly against his in a crushing kiss, obliterating any thought of the former. She’d never admit it out loud, but just that simple contact caused all the anger to drain out of her. Even her body noticeably relaxed, the previously stiff and uncompromising angle of her crossed arms undoing themselves automatically to loosely wrap around his waist.

When he felt her respond, he deepened the kiss with a pleased murmur, running his hands all along her sides in a manner Emma could only describe as possessive. It was only the feel of the counter biting into her lower back that brought her out of the heavy haze of desire. She placed her hands on his chest, pushing him away even as her lips clung to his.

“Wait, wait,” she said breathlessly once they broke away, “So what are you saying? Yes? That’s what this is? Just the two of us?” He grinned, as if the answer was so patently obvious as to be ridiculous.  

“Does it really need saying?” he asked lazily, pulling at her waist as he tried to wrangle her back into another kiss. She leaned away, keeping him at bay.

“Yes,” she said resolutely, “it really _does_.” He sighed softly, the warm puff of air hitting her cheek and momentarily making her forget what they were even talking about. He let his forehead rest against hers, and when he answered, his words felt like a slow caress upon her lips.

“I think about you all the time,” he began quietly, his voice a low and intimate brush across her cheek. “And I laughed before because the possibility of me wanting anyone else _is_ laughable. There’s only you.” At those words her fingers curled into his chest, grabbing handfuls of his shirt impossibly tighter. “So girlfriend, boyfriend, or whatever you want to call it— I’m yours, and you’re _mine._ ”

Emma looked up at him intently, letting out a sound that was some cross between amusement, frustration and relief.

“Then why didn’t you just say that before?” she asked, only half joking in what he took as a rhetorical question since she gave him no time to answer before yanking him down into a hard kiss.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Their teeth clacked inelegantly with the force of their momentum, neither one of them caring much for finesse at the moment, but rather the raw desire that resulted from such a declaration.

It may have also resulted in a broken dish if the sound of something shattering in the background was any indication.

Emma turned to see the extent of the damage, but either Rupert didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because he started pulling her away without a second glance backwards. She followed after him clumsily, becoming even more so when she realized they were heading upstairs. They paused on the landing, Rupert swallowing her breathless gasp with a hot open-mouthed kiss that made her grateful for the support of the wall behind her, sure that she would have collapsed without it.

They eventually made it to his room, and even though it was the place she’d been most curious about, his most inner sanctum, she couldn’t be bothered to notice anything other than how many feet away they were from the bed. She barely registered the back of her knees bumping into the edge before Rupert toppled her over onto it, following quickly behind.

He wasted no time with a slow seduction, choosing instead to go straight for her weak points like that place low on her neck… and the sensitive spot behind her ear…

A loud moan escaped her when she felt the rough surface of his palm slide under her shirt and up her side, finally coming to rest on the small of her back where he began altering between soft strokes and circles. Emma welcomed the sensory overload, the overwhelming barrage of emotions seemingly manifesting into physical sensations that made it hard for her to distinguish between the two.

She placed her palm against Rupert’s chest, hunting for feel of his heartbeat as a vague memory of something she’d read before coming to her mind.

There was a theory that stated if you could feel someone’s pulse, and they yours, they would eventually after some time come to synchronize with each other; until there was no way to tell one from the other. Not an echo of each other, but one combined heartbeat living within two people.  

It was with a healthy amount of skepticism that she’d read that, but it was admittedly not with her academic mind that she now reached out to find out if it were true.    

Rupert looked up at the gentle touch, but she continued on, trying to tamp down her own roaring pulse in her ears to listen to his. At first she thought she could only hear her own, but after a moment she realized the reason she couldn’t was because it was perfectly disguised by her own.

The feel of it beneath her hand was amazingly, perfectly in time with hers.

She let out an astonished little gasp of laughter, looking to face him with a brilliant smile. Returning with one of his own, albeit a little puzzled, he asked her in a raspy voice, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she answered lightly, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands. “I just…” her tone dropped as she realized the true depth of her words. “I’ve missed you.”

The smile slid slowly off his face as his eyes focused more fully on her.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said after a moment, his voice rough with what she knew was regret after these past months of separation. It hadn’t been her intention to make him feel guilty when she said that, so she pulled him down for a firm kiss in the hope of chasing the feeling away in the best way she knew how.

Emma could feel the way he fell into the kiss— ravenous and desperate to her reassuring and steady. She tried to let him hear the truth of words unspoken with the movement of her lips and tongue. _It doesn’t matter now_ , she pressed into the roof of his mouth. _We’re together, and we know what we want._

He must have understood, because after a minute his actions gentled, as if soothed by what she meant. He leaned back up onto his knees and Emma made to follow him, but stopped halfway up on her elbows, frozen at the sight of him pulling his shirt off with one hand in a single smooth motion.

_Fuck_ , what was it with the way guys did that simple act that was so unbearably hot?

Whatever it was, it lit a spark that spread throughout her entire body, setting fire to her nerves in a slow, tortuous burn. It took all of her remaining wits to simply focus on undoing the few buttons on her blouse and maneuver it over her head while Rupert rushed to unzip her boots.

After tossing them aside, he bent down over her to tug on the waistband of her jeans as his lips landed unexpectedly on her navel. Her back arched at the contact, and taking advantage of the position, he quickly eased the thick denim off her completely.

Emma tried to control her unsteady breathing then, but when he pulled the lacey fabric of her underwear down just enough to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss on her hipbone, she was gone; utterly lost in a firestorm of blinding arousal. Something she’d been holding back for awhile suddenly seemed too much to restrain— too great a burden to carry alone, and too incredible a joy not to share. Her fingers clutched tightly at his shoulder, urging him upwards as she panted out his name breathlessly.

“Yeah?” he asked, and she was gratified to hear that he seemed a little out of breath too.

“I love you,” she blurted out without preamble. His eyes widened a bit at the sudden declaration, but before she could feel even a hint of regret at her abrupt delivery, he was kissing her. Any feelings of relief were soon chased back by the now familiar rush of heat that always followed the trail of his lips, and it was when he paused at the juncture of her neck and shoulder that he finally replied.

“I love you,” he whispered across the delicate skin, and the way he said it almost made Emma think he’d said it first. That was how it had always been with them, though: no discernible beginning, only the shared fall into an inevitability neither one wanted to fight.

Only when he had managed to pull her underwear fully off did he speak again, his arms locked around her hips and warm breath brushing against her most sensitive flesh.

“Now let me show you _how_ much.”


End file.
